He's Absolutely Perfect
by altera vita mea
Summary: Spain decides to let the world know why he's so in love with Romano. Warnings? An illegal amount of fluff


_**So this rather perfect idea hit me the other day, and yesterday I was hit by an amazing amount of inspiration, and this this was born. I hope you enjoy it with all its fluffy goodness.**_

 _ **altera vita mea**_

* * *

 _He's Absolutely Perfect_

Hola, mi llamo Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, but you might have heard of me by my more popular name- España. I am the personification of Spain, and you might think I am crazy, but it's true! I know the nation you are from, and chances are I know them pretty well.

But that's not what I want to write about! I am writing something very important, for the good of someone who is extremely special to me. It's something that I firmly believe that every person on this planet needs to read. And here it is: I am dating the most gorgeous, wonderful, and perfect person in the entire world. Sí, I know everyone feels that way when they are in love, but it is more than a feeling. It is fact, and I have strong evidence to prove it. Why am I so sure about this? Because mi amor is Italy Romano, Lovino Vargas, the human embodiment of South Italy.

Don't laugh at me! I am not loco! I know the look you're probably making now, for it is the same face the other nations make when I tell them how amazing Romano is. "Spain, I think you're confused," they tell me. "I don't think you realize how much he beats on you, he's so vulgar and rude, his brother is so much better… I don't see how you could actually love someone like that."

It always angers me when they say things like that, it's like hearing someone who thinks they're smart rattle on and on about a subject they clearly know nothing about! "He's not like that!" I protest. "Sure, maybe Italy has a more friendly personality, but he's not Romano- he's not the one I'm in love with!"

"Spain, sometimes I honestly don't understand you."

No, they don't understand. They don't know Romano the way I know him, they can't see even a glimpse of the beautiful soul I see, and that pains me. I am writing this so everyone will know that my little Lovi is absolutely perfect. You still don't believe me, do you? Neither does he.

I tell him all the time, almost constantly, but it never seems to make a difference. I can never really make him feel good about himself. "Lovi," I'll say, tilting his face so that his beautiful hazel eyes are looking right into mine. "Did you know you're amazing?"

He laughs shortly. "Well you say it all the damn time; I think I should know it by now."

"But do you believe it?"

That's when he'll break the eye contact, staring down at our feet and whispering a "no" so soft I barely hear it. I almost wish that I don't, because it breaks my heart every time.

You see, not a lot of people know this, but he is so much more than the "vulgar and cruel" person that everyone makes him out to be. He has a fiery spirit, yes, and I wouldn't trade his passionate personality for the world, but all of his curses and insults and punches are just a front to hide his real emotions. Call me demented and stupid, but after spending so many years with Romano I have managed to decode parts of his rough language. You know how he's always calling me a Tomato Bastard? It's actually his term of endearment. Idiot means that I'm probably misinterpreting what he's saying and that he loves me. He'll claim that my cooking is gross but he'll eat every bite and will even attempt to sneak seconds onto his plate, he will tell me not to hug him but he never actually tries to get out of my grasp and gives up fairly quickly. Most of the time, in order to meet the Romano I know, you have to look past what he says. I know it sounds impossible, but Dios mío is it rewarding when you do.

But sometimes, it can be hard for even me to remember- I might be immortal but I am by no means perfect. Sometimes when he yells at me he'll say something particularly mean, and I'll forget that he doesn't mean it. Sometimes I snap at him and say something that I shouldn't, something that I know will get to him. I bring up his insecurities, I mention his brother, I tell him that Italy would have never done something like that and why on earth couldn't he try to be better?

For a second he is silent, his hazel eyes grow wide and even if I am furious I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt, because I actually hurt him. But before I say anything he leaves the room, never uttering a sound as he locks himself in the nearest room and stays there for hours. My anger quickly subsides, especially when I happen to walk past the closed door and hear him gently sobbing from inside. I feel like the most tyrannical, monstrous person on the earth- I was the one who made my precious Lovi cry. I stop whatever I am doing and spend the rest of the day camped outside the door, apologizing, reassuring him that I love him, apologizing, singing to him softly, apologizing again.

Eventually the door will creak open and he'll slowly crawl into my arms, whispering his own apologies as he clings to my shirt. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry, mi querido," I admit, stroking his soft hair. "I shouldn't have brought your brother into the picture, it was low. You've always been my favorite, Lovinito."

The Romano everyone knows is rude and gruff, but my Lovino is highly sensitive. He's vulnerable to the things people say about him, all those careless comparisons to his brother hurt him. He just won't let you see him cry, for he doesn't want you to think he's weak. I think he's only really broken down in front of Italy and me.

But even though he does cry, he is still so strong, he is not as big of a coward as everyone believes. You do realize that the mafia started in his part of the country, right around the time of his unification? He had just started out being an actual nation with his brother when it started happening, he had almost no experience, and yet he tried his best to keep them in line. Sometimes he does slip up, but he's been getting better at it.

He's somewhat scared of Germany, but it never stops him from standing up to the other nation because he doesn't want to see Italy get hurt. And a while ago there was a huge Civil War in my country; it was so bad I couldn't even move for I was in so much pain. You know who came to help me? Dear sweet Lovino. Well, technically his brother and Germany were there too, but they both agree that Romano fought the hardest, despite his claims that he didn't care, and he even got shot in the butt just to try to get me to feel better!

When I think about his bravery, one incident in particular always comes to mind. Right after he and his brother united to form one Italian government there were really scary rumors going around, whispering that soon one of the Italian brothers would be gone forever! "Remember all the Germanic tribes that vanished when Holy Roman Empire was formed?" The nations gossiped. "What if one of the Italians goes next? Personally, I think-"

"Hey! I'm right here!" I shouted, uncharacteristically angry.

"Oh, sorry Spain. I know you raised Romano and everything, but honestly I think Veneziano would be a more fit representation of the Nation of Italy. B-but no one knows if either of them will go!"

All of them made me so mad I was tempted to find my trusty battle axe from my closet and remind them of my pirate and conquistador days, but I had more pressing matters on hand. Like Romano. I practically ran all the way to Rome(my boss wasn't really happy about that one, not even when I insisted that it was an emergency) and much to my relief both Italys were alive and well, Veneziano didn't even look aware that anything might be happening. He merely greeted me with a "ve" and a hug around my waist before he skipped off to sign some papers from their boss.

"I know why you're here, bastard," Romano told me. "You heard the rumors."

I nodded. "You're going to be okay, right? You're not going to die?"

He stared at me and sighed slightly. "You'd get over it."

I thought I was going to pass out. "¿Qué quieres decir?" I screeched. "¡No se puede morir en mí!"

"Would you shut up!" Romano hissed, pressing his hand to my mouth to muffle my loud wails. "You stupid bastard, you are so damn lucky my idiot brother doesn't know Spanish. I don't want him to hear you and start freaking out, got it?"

My only answer was a poorly concealed sob as tears started to cloud my vision. I couldn't live without my little tomato, I really couldn't! His eyes softened as he shook his head at me, slowly removing his hand from my mouth. "Sit down," he mumbled, lightly pushing me into the couch. "If it's any consolation, there's no guarantee that one of us will go."

I grabbed him by his waist and pulled him closer, burying my face into his stomach. And surprisingly he didn't protest, he just sighed again and gently combed his shaking fingers through my hair. "You're not going anywhere Roma," I told him stubbornly. "I'd rather watch my Armada sink and let my old empire fall a thousand times before I let anything happen to you."

"There really isn't anything you can do about it," he said in an amazingly calm voice. It did wobble a little though, as if he was trying to keep himself from crying. "And if one of us has to go it will be me, you know that. Veneziano knows how to be Italy, he has for years. I don't have any experience, I'm not talented like he is, he can make more connections with other countries and it would just be better that way dammit! It would be better for everyone."

"No," I said stubbornly, tightening my grip on his waist. "I need you. Please stay."

"Not if that means my brother has to go." Was all he said.

Words- no matter what language they are spoken in- cannot express how thrilled I am that he actually did stay, sometimes I feel as though each day I spend with him is borrowed time. I'm still not sure why there are two Italys, maybe it has something to do with their unique personalities, but I am so glad there are.

I really need to change the subject now, because thinking like that is going to make me cry, and if I cry I won't be able to finish this because I'll want to find Lovi and hold him close and never let him go. And being close to my lover is really tempting, but I still need to finish telling you why he's absolutely perfect! So no tears, okay?

If I were to tell you that Romano is one of the most caring people I know, you'd probably laugh. Huh, you're already laughing aren't you? Let me explain; Romano is really caring, but he doesn't show it the way most people do. I guess it is true that he can be a bit physical, he does hit me quite a bit and those headbutts of his are really painful! But afterwards, even if I might have deserved the ram at my stomach, he always comes back around.

I will be sitting on the couch, subconsciously massaging the growing bruise on my abdomen, and he will suddenly yank up the hem on my shirt, running his hands over my injury as he inspects it. "Does it really hurt, Tomato Bastard?"

I smile. "Hmm, a little. I bet if Lovi kissed it I would feel all better!"

The reaction is immediate; his face turns a bright tomato-colored crimson and he raises an arm to smack me, but changes his mind and folds both of them against his chest in a little pout. "Like hell I'm going to kiss it!" he hisses.

I sigh and shrug my shoulders. "Fine," I murmur, and go back to rubbing at my stomach until he finally growls some obscene swear and plants a light kiss to the injured area. "Better?" "Much," I respond happily, grabbing at him when he tries to escape and kissing his cheek.

"Goo- I mean fuck! I should have hit you harder!" He tries to act like he doesn't care, it's in his nature, but he does- and that knowledge makes me happier than a field of ripe tomatoes.

Whenever I happen to get sick, which happens whenever my economy seems to be doing especially bad...heh… Lovino is always there. I don't even bother seeing a doctor anymore, I just call him up and tell him I don't feel well, and he's at my side in a heartbeat: making sure I don't forget my medication, cooking me fresh tomato soup, rubbing reassuring circles on my back even when I'm hunched over the toilet releasing all that tomato soup I ate, and fluffing up my pillows so I can rest and recover. If I didn't always feel so miserable I would pull him onto my lap and kiss him. But I do, and he demands that I keep my sickly hands to myself until I get better. And that is always soon, for I can always get better with him taking care of me, my sweet little novio.

I've heard people say that Veneziano is the more talented half of Italy, but I don't really know if that is true or not, for my half of Italy is very gifted as well. He's a mastermind in the kitchen, the wonderful tomato soup he makes me when I'm sick is simple compared to all the dishes he can create: pastas, pizzas, salads- everything with lots of delicious tomatoes. He doesn't stop at Italian cuisine either. He can make paella and churros that closely rival mine, and I was there when those foods were invented!

He can paint too, but he rarely ever shows me what he does, claiming that it's all trash anyway. "You know my brother is better," he grumbles. That might be true, Veneziano has a way with art and can make a mere picture come to life on a canvass, but Romano tries his best, and I think he might have more creativity. Every once in a blue moon he gives me something he's painted as a gift, stuttering and blushing the entire time.

"It's beautiful Lovi!" I gasp. "I'm going to hang it up ahora!"

He shakes his head at me. "No don't do that you idiot! It's not good enough!" But I still hang it up, and there is a small look of pride on his face when he sees it. Those paintings really do light up the house.

Another thing Romano is good at but won't say is singing. Wow, he has the most angelic voice I've ever heard! I can never get enough of it, which is why I often find myself sneaking around the house when he's cooking or those rare moments when he's actually cleaning, because he doesn't like singing for people. I usually hide around the corner, leaning against the wall with a large smile on my face, trying to fiddle with my phone or a camera so I can record it and listen to his voice singing in Italian again and again and again. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of him with his back to me, his body swaying ever so slightly, and all I can do to keep myself from squealing is bite my knuckle to the point where it kind of starts to hurt, trying to hide my excitement.

But even so, I get caught every time when he suddenly pops around the corner with annoyed look on his face, causing me to yelp and fall to the ground. "What the hell are you doing? Is that a camera? Bastard! Give it to me! Delete it right this fucking second!"

"But Lovi!" I plead, clutching the device to keep him from snatching it out of my hands. "I love hearing you sing! Please let me keep it!"

"No."

"Por favor!"

"No!"

"Then you'll have to sing for me! I'll delete it if you sing for me!"

He sighs. "Maybe. Now hand it over!"

I figure it's the closest thing I'll get to a yes, so I reluctantly give it to him, promising myself I'll make him sing when he least expects it. Like when we're about to take a siesta, curled up on the couch in the afternoon. I rest my head on his chest and look up at him. "Mi amor?"

"Hm?"

"I can't sleep."

"What the fuck does that mean? You're always ready to sleep, lazy bastard. Just close your eyes."

"I'm trying!" I insist. "But I can't!"

"Ugh, so you're going to deprive me of me well-deserved siesta because you can't fall asleep?"

I scoot myself up a little and nuzzle at his neck. "I bet I could fall asleep if you sang to me."

He groans and weakly attempts to pry me from his neck. "Idiota. How did I know this is what it would come down to?" He tries to protest, but he eventually gives up with a sigh and softly sings an Italian lullaby. I hug him tighter in a silent thanks and lean into the hand that is soothingly running through my hair. And as much as I try to fight it, I always fall asleep before his beautiful song is even done.

Have I ever mentioned how adorable Lovino is? I have? Let me tell you again- he's sooooo cute! He is so cute in fact, that sometimes I feel like my heart is just going to burst. He's gorgeous too, absolutely stunning, muy hermoso! I can't get enough of him really. I could spend hours just looking at him, running my eyes along his olive colored lithe body, his red-tinted hair with his cute curl, his flashing hazel eyes, his full pouting lips- but I guess it would be creepy even if I'm the one who stares at him that long. He always snaps after ten seconds anyway. "What are you staring at, stalker!"

"I'm staring at my sexy boyfriend!" That gets the reaction I want, his cheeks always turn so red when he's flustered, making me squeal every time. "Aw! Look at you! You're all red just like a tomate!"

"S-shut up!"

"Aw!" I pinch the red flesh softly and laugh. "¡Qué lindo!"

"You just called me sexy and now you say I'm cute. You do realize those are completely different fucking things, you annoying bastard!"

One of my favorite things to do is to cuddle him, especially when he finally stops fighting me and wraps his arms around me too. Romano is a little on the small side; he has a slim build and he never can reach the top shelf without help- and it's so adorable! The way he growls and tries to jump to reach, refusing my help until he finally tires himself out. "Bastard, make yourself useful and get me a damn cup! This is your fault for putting them all up there!" His size makes him the perfect cuddling partner when he'll let me; I can pull him onto my lap at any time with ease, even when I'm completely stretched out on the bed he can find a way to snuggle next to me(not that he'd admit to it), and he fits in my arms flawlessly. Besides, I can quite literally sweep him off his feet.

Sometimes he is actually the one who wants to cuddle, sí he is very capable of being affectionate, he just isn't in the mood to be as often as I am. But sometimes when he is I might be busy with paperwork, or the garden and I don't notice his subtle advances. That is until he loses his patience and jumps me. I'm not kidding! I might be in the office at my house working at my desk when he comes out of nowhere and pounces, knocking us both to the floor. "Ow, Lovi!"

"Shut up bastard! I want you to fucking kiss me already!" He doesn't give me a chance to respond, he just delivers a passionate kiss to my lips, sending my head back onto the floor with a soft thud.

"Mi amor, if you wanted a kiss all you had to do was ask."

"Che? I wrote a damn message on the napkin I gave you!"

"Napkin?"

"When I gave you your fucking coffee! Dio you're so oblivious! I'm going to sleep."

"Wah! Lovi come back! I want another kiss!"

"No!"

Ah, he really is so cute...And he's loving too. Really. He doesn't think I notice those gentle smiles he sends me, but I do. Each and every one of those beautiful, endearing smiles are saved in my memory, all of his whispered confessions, each tender look he gives me when he thinks I'm not looking. Sometimes he claims he'll leave, but he never does. And I know he won't. Why? Because I've heard him say otherwise.

Late at night, after we've been quiet for a while, he shifts in bed, scooting closer to my side. "Antonio? Are you awake?" I don't answer, making sure my eyes are closed and my breathing is even and relaxed. I feel him slowly comb his long fingers through my hair. "Grazie," he whispers. "Thank you for loving me even though I'm a dick. I don't deserve it. I know I always tell you that you're ugly, but you're not. You're so fucking handsome it drives me crazy. It's everything about you really: your hair, your beautiful green eyes, your perfect ass- which you need to tell France to stop touching before I kill the bastard. But I love your smile the most, especially when you smile at me… Dammit Antonio I love you. I love you so fucking much, more than you could ever know because I'm too much of a coward to tell you when you're awake. Thanks." He plants a small kiss to my forehead and sighs, snuggling against me. "Buonanotte amore mio. Sogni d'oro."

When he says things like that all I want to do is let him know I'm awake and kiss every inch of his face, but if I did I would never hear those sweet words again, he would stop for sure. Maybe it's a bit selfish of me, but I can't help myself. I do slowly wrap my arms around him and pull him against my chest as if I am doing it in my sleep.

Reading this over just reminds me why I love him so much, and why I can never stop loving him. Don't you see how perfect he is now? Can't you see that he's sweet and sensitive and so very cute? Not just cute, mi amor is beautiful. I bet you regret thinking those terrible thoughts about Romano now, don't you? Now you think I am the lucky one- and you're right, because I am. Now you want a little Lovi to hold and cherish for the rest of your life. Hm, too bad there's only one, and he's all mine. Lo siento, I used to be a pirate you know; I never share mi tesoro.


End file.
